Almost Unreal
by Miles Edgeworth
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night... but that would be unrealistic. Almost. RobJinx


_**Almost Unreal**_

_By Iain R. Lewis_

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Disclaimed._

_Description: A rain-soaked stray cat wanders in one night while Robin's on watch duty. Unfortunately it's not the only thing that gets past security._

_Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it._

_**Babe, come in from the cold and put that coat to rest  
**__**Just step inside, take a deep breath, and do what you do best**_

He knew it should probably begin with that quintessential cliché; it should probably say that it was a dark and stormy night.

But that would be a poor narrative.

He watched the carnival lights play on the piers in the rain. Some people remained on the park, even though the rains had gotten stronger and closing time loomed ever closer. Every place was quiet. The rains certainly seemed to deter the criminal element. He only wished every night could be like this.

So he could think.

So he could take his thoughts away from "It was a Dark and Stormy Night" and away from the infernal rhythm of Poe. "As I pondered weak and weary."

Still, it was haunting enough.

The lights of the carousel were the last to be extinguished. Still, he watched carefully for any stragglers. There weren't any. Some people waited for others, but Robin's eye was looking for those strange suspicious actions that he had trained himself to catch. He prided himself on his detective skills.

"Mraow," said the kitten quietly with its mangy fur in a mess. A black cat, with its fur all soaked through and shivering, had found its way into the tower.

"Hello there," Robin said quietly, so as to not wake the others, "How'd you get in here?" He wasn't off guard when a bunched fist tried to hit him on the back of the head and he flipped the intruder over his head.

A flash of lightning and rolling thunder caused the lighting to flicker. He saw the glowing pink light of their eyes before the light revealed the intruder's full face. Jinx. "Boy Blunder. I should have the luck."

He couldn't tell what her wry sarcasm was meant to conceal. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing breaking into our tower?"

"I'm not sure if you look out windows, but it's raining. I'm soaking wet." He looked at her uniform, pressing against her body like it had nowhere else to go. He blushed out of embarrassment. "There, now that we have that resolved…" she dusted off her hands and took Robin's seat.

He glared at her, "Besides the rain, why did you choose here?"

"You're inquisitive," she scolded.

"And you're evasive," he retorted. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed the air in indignation. The show didn't have any real effect over Robin, who just countered by crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a very fierce glare that she could feel on the nape of her neck.

"Fine," she answered, "I was planning something."

"And?" Robin asked, looking more confident with every growing moment. He was certain she would try and wipe the smirk off his face, but the feeling of power over the snot-nosed princess of the Hive Academy was worth the risk.

"And I was trying to make sure no one was watching that could stop me, is that what you wanted to hear? I was going to knock you out and take you as my hostage slave for my own bidding."

"That doesn't seem very neighborly," Robin answered.

"I'll show you neighborly," Jinx said, attempting intimidation but failing, "I'm really sorry, that was horrible. I'm tired and cranky and wet all over."

"And that's your excuse?" Robin asked.

"You got a better one?"

"I think we're going to be having a long talk with the proper authorities about this incident. Breaking and entering is a crime," Robin said. Jinx squeaked as she pulled her legs up in the chair. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

"You squeaked!"

"I did not!"

"I heard it clearly."

"Just a little one," Jinx said.

"Why?" Robin asked. Then paused, "We're getting off the subject!"

"Lonely, Boy Wonder?" she purred. The noise was soft and came like velvet or some other literary device that he just couldn't work out. Maybe it was a synecdoche with her voice acting as the feeling of camaraderie that she represented, but more than likely he shouldn't read so much poetry.

"Not really," he lied. It was painfully obvious to anyone, but Jinx just turned around in his chair and put her feet up on the console. She shrugged in a show of casual indifference and yawned.

"Suit yourself. Nice place you got here."

"I'm sure you're intimately familiar with it," Robin said deadpan. He should just kick her out, he knew that, but he was actually enjoying their game of cat and mouse, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out who the cat was.

"Oh, right, that!" she said scoffing, "Like I'd remember that. I spent most of the time trying on your clothes."

Robin only arched his brow.

"Don't give me that look. Admit it, I'd look pretty good in that multi-color fool get up," Jinx said, an omni-present smile on her pale face.

And possibly to spite every reasonable bone in his body, he did imagine her with the red-breasted Robin outfit on. And he wouldn't admit it out loud, but she probably would make it look good, with just the right contour.

She sneezed.

"I hate this weather." She sneezed again, and again, in uncontrollable bursts. There was a noise from one of the hallways. He could hear Raven's deadpan echo down the hallway with the anger of a hundred, how could he finish this metaphor, things that get really angry?

"Robin!" it rang, "You and your secret lover better keep your voices down." Robin's cheeks flushed. He could hear Jinx laughing already.

"Secret lovers? Me and you?"

"That's disgusting," Robin said. "She probably thinks you're Starfire."

"What's disgusting?" Jinx asked, obviously annoyed by the insinuation. She wrinkled her nose in a cute fashion. It only served to agitate her nose further, however, and she sneezed again, this time almost straight in Robin's face.

"That."

"S'ry," she muttered as she wiped her nose with a black handkerchief.

"You're going to get sick. Especially if you stay in those wet clothes." He blushed a bit as he suggested it. She looked at him sidelong. "Maybe take a shower," he added, after some time had passed.

"And me without an umbrella," she said.

"You could use our shower," he suggested, idly. He hadn't thought far beyond that.

"I don't know," she said. "How do I know you won't peek."

Robin stared at her, unsure of whether or not there were actual words for the emotions he was feeling. Indignation and outrage, probably. But the expression was blank, and he just pointed. "Down the hall, to the right," he said.

"And you won't peek?"

"No."

He couldn't make out the noise she made when he answered, but she slinked off down to the bathroom. Robin could relax now. He turned back to the monitors. There was still nothing going on.

He could hear the sounds of water coursing through the water pipes, but he paid them no mind. So he cycled through the security cameras, searching for something to take his mind off of the loneliness, and off of the pest that had infiltrated the tower.

_**Kick off those shoes and leave those city streets  
**__**I do believe love came our way, and fate did arrange for us to meet**_

She had a towel wrapped around her loosely.

It took Robin all of three seconds to conclude he was dreaming, but when he opened his eyes his face was still a faint pink. He looked at the screens. The sound of the pipes creaking as water flowed through them died.

The door made a soft sound as it opened and there were the sounds of footsteps. Then a sneeze. The sound was surprisingly cute. More steps and another cute sneeze later he could see Jinx, a bathrobe wrapped around her tightly for warmth, enter the room.

"It didn't help," she muttered. "And my clothes are all wet and icky."

"I, uh, see that," Robin said. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Wash them," she ordered.

"Why me?"

"Are you just going to let a sick girl like me do her own laundry?" Jinx asked. "And you call yourself a man?"

"You don't do my laundry when I'm sick."

"Like you're ever sick."

"Sure," Robin said, "I was in February. Sneezing and coughing and running nose, all that good stuff. Didn't stop me from doing my own laundry."

"But I'm pretty!" Jinx whined, "And I don't know how."

Robin slammed his hands down on the console, "What?" A door opened down the hall, and he could hear Starfire's hushed voice.

"What is the matter, Robin?"

"Yeah!" Beast Boy said, another door opening, "We're trying to sleep here."

"Sorry!" Robin hollered down the hall, and he heard the doors close. He glared at Jinx – he could easily throw her out of their door in that, but that wouldn't be heroic – and took her arm firmly, "C'mon."

"Hey, Boy Blunder, not so tight," she said. He led her to the laundry room and pointed to a chair.

"Sit down and be quiet," he said. "And your clothes. Give them to me." They were tossed to him in a bundle. He blushed as, because they were damp from rain water, Jinx's undergarments clung to his face. "Can't you be serious."

"I'm getting my laundry done by Robin of the Teen Titans," Jinx said, "At this point, I'm figuring I'm in a fever dream."

"And if you aren't?"

"Will it matter?" Jinx asked.

"I suppose not," he took the garments and tossed them into the washer and started it. She sneezed again, and again, and rubbed her nose cutely, "Do you need a tissue or something?"

"No," she said. She lay down on her seat.

"What's wrong?"

"Headache," she muttered. "Think I caught something."

Robin sighed, "You'll need some warm clothes." She sneezed. "Maybe I can ask one of the girls – but, that'd be… embarrassing."

"For both of us. I wouldn't be caught dead in anything they wear."

"I don't see what's wrong with what they wear," Robin said.

"Typical male," Jinx scoffed, "No sense of fashion whatsoever." Her sporadic sneezing cut her off several times as she tried to tell him, "If I wore anything as ugly as that blue cloak Raven wears, I'd be forced to kill myself."

"Never knew you felt so strongly about what you wear," Robin said. He was grateful his mask hid any signs of him rolling his eyes.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"Absolutely nothing," Robin reiterated. "Don't be so suspicious."

"Okay, then," Jinx said. "Don't have kittens." She looked at the washing machine. "How long does that thing take to --?"

"Forty minutes," he answered.

"Are we going to sit here the whole time? I'm bored," she muttered. "And I'm hungry. Get me something to eat!"

"Fine, but I'm going to keep my eye on you." He took her by the wrist again and lead her back to the main room. "And don't try anything funny."

When he had again seated her and began to prepare a pot of soup for her, he had time to calm down and observe the situation so far. Jinx had broken into the tower after getting caught in the rain and now he was, for some reason, nursing her back to health. It was certainly, oh, what was the term. Ironic? Would it qualify as ironic? Perhaps. It was an unexpected turn of events.

The irony would be delicious to Raven, who he was certain would find something wry to say when no one was looking. Cyborg and Beast Boy wouldn't get it, but maybe Starfire. Oh well, he was wearing a motley's colors, may as well act the fool for just one night. He stirred the pot, so that it wouldn't boil over, and looked towards the living room.

Jinx was quiet, her eyes closed, and except for an occasional sneeze, a welcome reminder of the company that he had in the loneliness of the night watch, and seemed to be almost asleep.

They were left alone with the sound of the rain on the windows. The lonely bursts of wind that shook the tower so subtly sometimes came to remind them that the world outside was violent and cold, but the rain let them know that they were safe. Simile. The rain was like a mother holding its children close within their cradle. Metaphor. The rain was a lullaby to frightened children.

He put the soup in a bowl and carried it with him as he crept to where she lay asleep. Her nose sniffed the air, as if preparing to sneeze, and then a croaky voice said, "Chicken Soup?"

"I thought it might help."

"Uh, thanks," Jinx said, quietly. Her voice seemed weaker. She sat up, the bathrobe falling clumsily about her. Robin's blush told her all she needed to know, and she straightened it. "Sorry."

"I, uh, should get you something better to wear."

"Thanks," she murmured, as she took her soup.

"Don't, uh, worry about it."

What had just happened? That wasn't what either was expecting. Robin rifled through the clothes he had in his room. Besides a closet filled with identical copies of his uniform, he had some pajamas he never found himself wearing anymore. He took them. They felt warm and he hoped they'd be to her liking.

He could have just gotten her one of his uniforms, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

He came in to see Jinx staring at the screen, her soup nearly finished, as she slurped the bottom of the bowl. She watched on with child-like wonderment at all the various camera shots the Titans had available.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"That's why we stop you, you know. Good surveillance."

She nodded again, sipping the last of her tea daintily.

"Are you okay?"

She paused, then nodded again.

"You just seem quiet."

She nodded.

"What does that mean?"

She shrugged.

"I got you something to change into. Their, uh, my pajamas. I don't wear them, really, so their clean, and, uh, maybe it'll make you feel a bit more comfortable than that, uh, robe."

"Thanks," she muttered, quietly.

"You sound worse." She coughed, which was a loud and abrasive sound. "Oh." She nodded. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Good idea," he said. "You should lie down." She shrugged. "I insist." She shook her head. "Why are you being difficult?" She smiled widely. "You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"

She nodded emphatically. Then pointed at the pajamas.

"Oh, right. You should go change." She skipped merrily down the hall, towards the bathroom. Robin blushed.

**_I love when you do that hocus pocus to me, the way that you touch, you've got the power to heal  
_**_**You give me that look, it's almost unreal. It's almost unreal**_

Jinx looked quite happy as she tried to open the bathroom door. But when the door opened by itself she panicked. She jumped to the side and saw a sleepy Cyborg rubbing his eyes, muttering to himself as though he were half asleep.

She panicked, taking deep breaths.

She jumped into the bathroom and locked the door, and began to get dressed.

Robin meanwhile just sat at the monitor when Cyborg came in, looking a bit hungry. "Midnight snack?" Robin asked. Cyborg looked at him. The way he had asked that was all too quick, and there was something nervous about his mannerisms.

"Look man, I don't wanna know what your screaming was about earlier, so don't tell me." He opened the fridge and pulled out a turkey drumstick. "Oh, sweet tryptophin."

"While you're up," Robin said, "Could you get me a soda?"

"Getting sleepy?"

"Let's just say it's been a taxing night."

"I could get the coffee machine started…"

"Coffee stunts the growth," Robin muttered. "I'm shorter than Starfire. I think I should stay away from coffee."

"Suit yourself," Cyborg said as he got a soft drink out of the fridge and tossed it at Robin, who grabbed it. "You okay? You look distracted."

"I caught the soda, okay? It's not as easy as it looks," Robin said.

"And strangely irritable."

"Sure I am," Robin said. "I'm just bored."

"Okay, if you say so. I'm getting back to recharging. This stuff's already making me kind of tired." He yawned. "You take it easy, okay?"

"I will," Robin said. He breathed a sigh of relief as he left, returning to his room. He could see, down the hall, the light of the bathroom leak in. And someone crept along the walls as she made her way back to the main room.

Jinx stumbled on the floor outside of Raven's room, and the noise seemed to prompt the door to open halfway. A red, tired eye peeked between the cracks, and seeing no one, she closed the door again.

She crept back on all fours and slinked like a cat to the monitor. She rested her hands on Robin's leg and looked up. She tried to get his attention, and the only noise she managed to make was a mangled and croak-like meow.

Robin noticed, and looked down at his strange houseguest. "Cyborg was just up."

"I saw," she moaned.

"How are the clothes?"

She smiled widely.

"You like them?"

She nodded.

"Good. I'll get you some blankets." He disappeared down the hall and she went to the couch and lay herself down against it. She closed her eyes and continued listening to the music the rain made on the glass as it came down. Perhaps the Boy Wonder was missing it, but it certainly made things serene. It added some magic to the moment. It made her wonder if she'd open her eyes to see Robin inches from her face, his lips – and that's ending that point of view.

This cliché atmosphere was beginning to wear thin on her.

She felt the warmth of a blanket being draped around her, and then the movement of the sofa as someone sat nearby her. Her hair, not now done up in its trademark cat-ears, were gently brushed aside as someone – Robin most likely – placed a pillow under her head. "Comfy?" a voice whispered.

"Not enough," she retorted in a croak.

"Sorry," he said, standing up. She opened her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," Jinx said.

"Sorry," he again said. "I'm just going to keep a watch on the monitors."

"Sit down," she ordered, as best as her voice could. She sneezed. Robin said "God Bless You" for the thirtieth time of the evening, Jinx noticed, and wondered if it even hit his ear drums.

As he sat down, she dragged herself forward and lay her head down on his lap. "There," she said, "Now I'm comfy."

**_Hey, we can't stop the rain, let's find a place by the fire  
_**_**Sometimes I feel, strange as it seems, you've been in my dreams all my life**_

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her, after some time had passed. She shrugged, as best she could, and looked up at him. Just wanting a bit of a taste of the moonlight's sonata. "Do you need anything?"

"No," she muttered.

He brushed her hair gently, and she felt a blush tinge her pale cheeks. Robin stopped when he saw what he was doing. "Sorry," he muttered. She just smiled and sighed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bored," she muttered, barely audible, "Dance for my amusement."

"Very funny," Robin said, secretly relieved to have some of Jinx's old attitude breaking this magic in the air. "Can't I at least tell a story or something?"

"No, I want dancing."

Robin got up, much to Jinx's surprise, and began to do a little dance for her amusement. She giggled in delight at his visible discomfort. He tapped, tapped upon the floor in a snap and a beat and she clapped along with it.

Anything to keep her mind off of the romance in the air tonight.

And Robin was secretly glad for the humiliation. They were moving too close to each other's mouths, and their glances were filled with those hidden meanings that became a story-book cliché. And those clichés were tired and unrealistic.

So he danced for her amusement.

And if they shared a glance as they clapped and danced, it was as full of emotion as one of those romance novels where Fabio stands in a dramatic pose with some vixen in a state of undress.

But he was no Valentino, she was no Greta Garbo.

But it was the rainfall.

That rainfall played while he danced, and when he sat down, apart from her, it just punctuated the distance between them. It was quite poetic, Robin observed silently, and mulled over the possibilities.

He could write her a sonnet.

But to compare her to a summer's day would be a travesty to summer's days everywhere.

Or he could dedicate an epic to her memory, and write about some woman's rape. But somehow that wouldn't seem fitting. It didn't match her smile.

Perhaps lean towards the modern and forsake the rhyme scheme and rhythm and write in freeform. Perhaps he could capture a fleeting memory of Led Zeppelin and write what is and what should never be.

Or maybe a naughty limerick? No, that wouldn't suit her at all.

Maybe he should compose her a song, and stroke the strings of an electric guitar like the strings of her heart.

Maybe, just maybe, he should sweep her away into the night, or perhaps he should walk home alone in the rain. Maybe he should stop fighting the clichés of romance, and accept that they have become clichés because they once thrilled the heart and mind with their passionate heat.

Or maybe he should stop creating what if situations as willy-nilly as Marvel comics.

"Robin?" Jinx whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Sit down," she indicated next to her. "Over here."

He sat down next to her, "What's wrong?"

"Still bored." She poked him. "Strip naked."

"No," he answered levelly.

"No fun at all!" she huffed.

"You should rest. You won't get better if you don't. You're still sneezing and coughing. At least your voice is sounding better."

"I coughed it better," she boasted.

"Make sure you don't cough it back, then." She stuck out her tongue. "I'm serious."

"I won't," she muttered. "I usually love the rain."

"It sounds pretty," Robin said. "Like a soft drum on our window. It creates a romantic atmosphere in the lowered lights. It's, uh, it's a beautiful thing."

"Is it?" Jinx said, raising a brow.

"Yeah," Robin said. "Could I compare you to a rainy day?"

"No," she retorted.

"Just like you."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I'm a quick study."

"Sure, and I'm the Queen of France."

"Your majesty."

"Very funny," Jinx answered. Then she made a sound like the upheaval of wind from a rested valley; disturbing that unspoken section of the soul that until now had been hidden from sight. With a pleading look she asked, "Can we stop this right now?"

"Stop what?" Robin asked. He raised his eyebrow, and in an elegant motion summed up all the feelings Jinx was having in this moment.

"Stop taunting me. I don't want this to end like all those romance novels--"

"-- The ones with Fabio on the cover," Robin echoed her thoughts and finished her sentence.

"And it's most certainly going that way.'

"It's like the kind of story that begins with "It was a dark and stormy night.""

"Or a romantic poem about love," Jinx said. "Or a song by Night Ranger."

"Or a song by Night Ranger."

"Why did I have to come out tonight?" Jinx asked. "This is unreal!"

Robin brought her face towards his, and said gently to remind her, "Almost unreal." They moved close to each other, as was the custom, and their lips prepared themselves for whatever they did next. Robin smiled, and said softly, "Maybe a cliché isn't such a bad thing?"

"Maybe it isn't," Jinx muttered. Her eyes were too focused on on his mask, mentally undressing his face to wonder what color his eyes were. She imagined, for a moment, that they were baby blue, filled with passion and sadness that only she could ease. "Maybe it's not so bad at all."

"Not a bad thing at all."

"Not bad one little bit."

It was a dark and stormy night.

And Robin kissed Jinx while the storms raged outside.

_**It's a crazy world out there  
**__**Let's hope our prayers are in good hands tonight**_

It was about a week later, and Robin was up late in the night with a cold. He sneezed violently as he did, and the rain outside seemed to echo his feelings of complete dread. There wasn't any good reason he caught that bug from her, but still, that which gives receives, or something.

Still, the monitor duty tonight wasn't totally unpleasant. There was still a few bastions of life that he could watch on the monitors.

A young couple had been engaged and the young man was screaming romantic nothings into the air.

It was sweet, if just, perhaps, a little cliché.

But since when was that a bad thing?

"Oh, Robin," said a soft purr. He turned around, trying to find the source of the familiar voice. "I heard you were sick all this week."

Jinx snuck out of her shadows, and instead of her trademark dress, she was dressed in a rather tempting nurse costume. "So I decided to come and nurse you all better."

"Well," Robin said, smiling lopsidedly, "I guess turn about is fair play."

_fin_


End file.
